


my first and last

by hyuckie (ardenchoe)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Bad Poetry, Coming of Age, First Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Sad, Sicheng deserved better, Teen Angst, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, as in i'm sad, mentioned eating disorder, published on wattpad first so don't worry when you see it @winewoo !!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 14:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20244205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardenchoe/pseuds/hyuckie
Summary: love is afraid of change, not of destruction.(since 2009, mark's been recording every memory of him and renjun.)





	1. dog days are over

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this a while back on wattpad where it received a lot of love. honestly, im not too confident about my writing in this but i do like going back and reading it now and then, just bc it makes me kind of happy. i hope u like it... i dont know if im gonna continue writing this btw :)
> 
> this is unbeta'd !! stream boom <3

**scene:** our hands intertwined at midnight, me playing with his hair

There's a one-story house where everything inside is pink: pink walls, pink doors, pink floors, pink ceilings, pink windows, pink curtains, pink chairs, and pink tables. What colour are the stairs?

This isn't how this story was supposed to start, but the actual beginning would be too upsetting. I don't want this to be a sad story, so let's just pretend that this is how it starts. With a stupid joke, one you perhaps even got wrong. If you thought the stairs were pink, you didn't think enough. If you thought 'How the hell can there be stairs in a one-story house?', you're right. I know. Kind of stupid, not funny at all. Maybe I should've just started with what actually happened, with how I met him. 

Renjun loved to commence conversations with a joke, as a kind of opener to a less amusing topic. I liked it, don't get me wrong, but to me, it feels weird. One minute, I'm thinking about something silly, something totally unimportant to what he actually wanted to talk about and then boom. Knock, knock, my mom left. Knock, knock, my dad shot himself last night. Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock —

One time he started crying before he even finished his joke and I could only sit there and hold him, wondering about what next horrible thing happened to my best friend, that he was ashamed to tell me. Renjun and I didn't have secrets, we just never felt the need to keep stuff from each other. My mom said it's cute, my dad said it's not healthy. 

Knock, knock. 

Who's there?

Fei Hung's admitting me to an eating disorder treatment clinic. I thought you should know. I won't be there for a few weeks or... or months. I'm sorry. No, no, Hyung, don't cry, I'm sorry, no, see, I'm smiling, I'm happy, it's okay.

What I'm most embarrassed about is that, despite that one time when he told me about the eating disorder, I always was the first one to cry. I couldn't help it. He always meant the world to me. We'd sit together on his bed, me a crying mess in his arms, and he would run his hands through my hair and whisper comforting words, like _never stop smiling, Hyung, I love you_ or _let's go to Qi's, I'll pay_. 

I swear, I didn't mean to make this sad. He's okay, Renjun's okay and I'm okay and it's fucking alright. He got over his eating disorder, he came in touch with his mom again and they had a funeral for his father. They invited me and I held Renjun's hand the whole day until our fingers were all wrinkly when I had to leave. Fei Hung even let me hug her and it was nice and warm. I didn't think she'd be that warm if I'm completely honest. Half of my life, she was Renjun's big, mean sister, that would listen to screamo music in her room and only come out for food or to shout at someone. That day, she really proved me otherwise. 

Things have changed since then. Renjun and I don't hang out as much anymore, he moved in with his mom and they sold the house. I missed when we were only two blocks away because now, it's a fifteen-minute drive to just see him. He has new friends, as well. We used to be those two kids that you don't see with other people, always together. Yeah, we used to be so much closer, but I don't want to change things. We still talk and text a lot. He has his things, like the cooking club and a sphynx cat called Sigrid and I have my things, my videos and short films.

But most importantly, we have secrets now. And I don't think I like that. I don't like it at all.

**scene:** him eating banana-and-sprinkles froyo, _girl in red_ playing in the background

In my opinion, frozen yoghurt is the best thing in the world. There aren't just endless possibilities to choose from, it also makes you happy. My favourite frozen yoghurt place is _Qi's_, that 24-hours-shop in town: its walls are painted each in a different colour, they have different playlists for each century (my favourite one is probably the 70s one) and they only give out reusable straws, which isn't just environmentally friendly, but also super nifty.

It's a little past ten p.m and Renjun and I are pressed against the lime-coloured wall, listening to what I think is the 50s playlist, just sitting there in quiet. We sometimes do that after a while of not seeing one another. Summer break is almost over and the mood is weird, but it's my birthday next week and I know he's always super excited about that. Usually. I don't like this feeling, it's not normal that I feel awkward with him.

A little later he asks me what I want for my birthday and I say _I don't know_, surprise me and he rolls his eyes, picking up a slice of banana with a purple spoon. "How can't you know? It's your birthday, Hyung, what am I supposed to get you?" I almost respond something sappy, something like _I just want you there_ or _as long as you're with me, I'm happy_, but I know I can't say that anymore. I don't exactly remember when even touching him became unnatural. We used to cuddle, used to share lollipops, but now even our knees brushing beneath the table is weird. "I just don't know," I say instead and you can see how much it pisses him off, but he doesn't say anything, because we don't tell each other anymore when we're mad at one another.

I pay for him like I always do, but he doesn't throw his arm around my shoulder anymore. Once again, it hits me how much I miss him. The ride home is quiet except for when I stop in front of his house. "Goodbye, Mark," he smiles and I almost feel like sixteen again. Except that's it. He seems to notice how caught off guard I am because I can see him rolling his eyes for the second time today. "Good night," I call after him, but it's too late, the door to my car is already slammed shut and he's already turned his back on me.

Driving home, I listen to _banana & sprinkles_.

❦

Saturday is painful. The day starts off with my mom forcing me to clean the kitchen and ends in a terrible headache. Plus, Renjun doesn't answer the text I send him around lunchtime, even though I know he checks his phone at least every half an hour. It's okay, I don't blame him. I'd be angry at me, too, even if I don't really know why. What I know is that if I don't show up at his place with some chocolate or, preferably, some alcohol, he won't talk to me again.

But I'm afraid, so I avoid him as much as he avoids me. Jeno invites me to hang out with some guys from his team and I gladly accept. A few beers after my arrival I feel less shitty already and when someone puts Troye Sivan on, I even start to dance. (In hindsight, all of this is Renjun's fault. Wasn't he the one that didn't let me listen to anything else for a whole month?)

I wish he were there. Just seeing him would be enough. It's okay to miss him, isn't it? He's my best friend, my other half. I only forget him when a girl offers me another drink. He hand slips into the back pocket of my jeans and then she presses her soft lips onto my Adam's apple, gentle and moist but it's enough to take my mind off things. Things like my best friend that probably hates me. Things like his sweet banana and sprinkles breath, formed into an annoyed sigh. Things like his cold hands hitting my shoulder after I, again, say something stupid. I forget all about that, all about him, only feel the girl's lips on my neck and on my jaw and

"Can't do this," I mumble, shoving her off with little to no force, getting not more than a disappointed groan.

That was the first sign. Not that I knew. Well, maybe I did. But sometimes things happen to you, but you don't see because you didn't pay attention. How can you notice something you weren't searching for in the first place?

Once I'm home and in my room again, I get out something I haven't looked at for so long: my old tapes, mostly my mom sitting at the table, sewing, dogs playing at the park and Renjun, Renjun in my bed, Renjun applying makeup, Renjun drawing fruit still lives, Renjun Renjun Renjun. The first one I watch is him posing in a dress my mom made for his sister; it's blue with white frills and a little big on him, but he still looks stunning, as if it were made for him. I never wondered about his love for what I considered girls' clothes, makeup and fashion. He always looked good and that made him happy, so _I_ was happy. Now is different. Now I'm confused about it, now I want to ask him about it. But now I can't. I can't stop the sobs shaking my shoulders, the tears just pour out of me and I can't fight the sadness taking over my body.

_I could call him._

Or.

Maybe I shouldn't.

The second video is Renjun and Fei Hung in a battle of Mario Kart, the older female obviously winning. Renjun looks about fifteen or sixteen and he isn't wearing a shirt, only in a pair of Mark's too-small sweatpants, that still fit the younger rather loosely. The footage is from before he got his braces and before he dyed his hair and I feel myself getting nostalgic again. I miss him so much.

**to renjunnie [03:12]:**  
remember the ball pit  
ki yoora kissed me at?  
let's go there for my  
birthday. just us two.

**scene:** him dancing, tendriled in dim fairy lights

Renjun's drunk, I can tell by the way he almost tripped over his own feet three times already, and by the way he throws me kisses across the room. I was surprised when he showed up at my front door tonight, wrapped in a scarf even though it's not cold out. _Hyung_, he had said (that's also when I spotted the leaking can of beer in his hand), _I walked here_. And he looked so proud and I still felt sorry for being weird the day before, so I just let him in and took the can out of his hand. Now he's drunk and I don't know if it's because he perhaps had one or two beers before coming here, or if it's the music, but I reckon it's both. He looks cute, eye closed and swinging his hips and shoulders and furling himself tighter with the fairy lights that used to hang over my desk in winter time — I only took it off yesterday and the batteries are almost dead, but that's doesn't seem to bother him.

Strange enough, I can't seem to get the image of his excited face out of my head, telling me how he got here. _I walked here_. He sounded so happy, so breathtakingly happy. It did something to me, made my heart jump and my chest tighten. And the way he said Hyung. As if I was the only person that he wanted to see and _got_ to see. Still watching him, I frown. He's here, he's with me and he forgave me, why am I still not satisfied? Why do I want him to sit with me and hold me, like all those times before? That's not us anymore. We're Mark and Renjun, not MarkandRenjun, we're two souls, two hearts, _separate_.

"I'm gonna do it," he says and it's breathless — he still has little to no stamina, is still exhausted from the past. I can't blame him. I raise my brows in question and he frowns, kneeling down between my legs, hands on my knees. "If he asks me again, I won't reject him." His voice is smooth and clear, even with the music blasting through the speakers of his phone. My reaction gets lost in the hitched breath I let out because his _hands_ are on my _knees_ and _oh my god_, this shouldn't be happening, I shouldn't want them to stay, to never move again, to take a grip and roam higher, until they release the tightness in my lungs and, perhaps, lower abdomen —

He interrupts my messy strong of thoughts by pushing himself up with help of my knees, the heels of his hands pressing deeply into the flesh and bone, sitting down next to me, too close, way too close. "Mh?" I ask stupidly and he sighs, annoyed because _you never listen to me, Mark_, but I can't help it. I'm still in shock, have trouble breathing now that I _know_, now that I've _felt_.

And yet, I cannot pinpoint what exactly it is that I'm feeling. Sexual attraction isn't something new to me, not even with guys.

But.

This is Renjun. Shy, cute, innocent Renjun. _My_ Renjun. I can't be thinking what I thought seconds ago, _shouldn't_ be.

"I- I'm sorry," I therefore stammer, eyes wide and round. I'm still able to feel his eyes on me, feel him scanning the left side of my face, feel his breath fan over my cheeks, sweet, laced with alcohol. The Renjun I know giggles and kisses my cheek, calling me cute. The Renjun I know wraps his arms tight around my neck until I'm not sure anymore if this could be considered a hug or manual strangulation. The Renjun I know also died in a war between reality and his mental health, the latter giving in and adjusting into this person I can't call my soulmate anymore. Maybe we weren't destined in the first place. Maybe our childhood vows to be _best friend forever and ever and ever and ever_ weren't bound to be abided by.

The real Renjun sighs once again, turning away from me, taking off the fairy lights and throwing them on the floor carelessly. "Geez, what's wrong with you?!"

❦

"You still have that thing?" I flinch harshly as the person next to me speaks up, his naked chest suddenly pressing against my bare back, pressing a soft, lasting kiss against my shoulder. I remember being crazy in love with Sicheng. That was almost a year ago. I don't think I love him anymore, but his skin on mine feels just as good as it did back then, warm and smooth and that same sweet taste still lingered on my tongue. He holds up a hand, gently pressing on the skip button of my camera. I didn't take many photos, and if I did, only of Renjun's paintings. On the next picture, he had drawn a gore version of Moomin, the character's throat slit open and thick, red blood surrounding it. Sicheng shuddered, giggling a little. "That boy always confused me. I like it, don't get me wrong. He's more messed up than all of us."

It's the truth, I reckon, even though it hurts. I shrug and the older boy nibbles at my back with his teeth, causing chills to run down my spine. "You should take a picture of me once," he then breathes, hot and mellow and I nod, letting him kiss along my jaw. I don't know why I can't forget Renjun, even through all of this. Sicheng stops kissing me only to press further on the recorder, finally showing another video. I let it play, a shaky recording of me under a pile of blankets. I must be about 15 or 16 when I coloured my hair for the first time. I looked ridiculous, but Renjun said he liked it. I bite my lip. 

Sicheng laughs softly into my ear and I feel his breath hitting my neck. "You're so cute." I don't know if he means now or back then, but I don't answer as I watch like spellbound how Renjun climbs under the blanket tower with me, filming me from below. He sings a song I don't recognize immediately but still causes a warm shiver all over my body. That's when the video ends, just like that. I like those recordings if I'm honest. Just a slice of our life, short, unsweetened. Renjun and me.

I power off the device with a small sigh, letting myself fall into the pillows again. Sicheng presses his face in the crook of my neck, but I pull him up slightly, eyeing his face. Gosh, what a beautiful being. Maybe I do still love him. His small smile counts as an invite for a soft kiss. There's his sweet taste again and gone are all thoughts that don't involve him. Maybe that's why I keep coming back to him. 

**scene:** won't you stay 'til the a.m?

It's been a while since I breathed the same air as him. His lips glisten from the candy cane in between them, his fingertips mindlessly gliding over my chest, not knowing how my heart does a jump whenever he slips over the collar of my shirt or how my stomach drops whenever his sweet breath hits my skin. He texted me about an hour ago, telling me Jaemin had dropped him off on the way to his grandma's house. I let him in without a word and he pushed by me, not forceful, but definitely making a statement.

"Ki Yoora's ball pit, mh?" he asked and I nodded, a little overenthusiastic. Then he smiled, letting himself fall down on my bed, expecting eyes looking up at me. Already I knew I wouldn't be able to go through with this without losing my mind, but I'd try, try to be normal around him and pretend I wouldn't think about his lips on mine my every waking hour. I don't know what caused this, because I'm sure I never felt this around him before we started drifting apart, that meaning this wasn't what separated us. Our breakup was what started all these new feelings and desires and I'm already tired of it, to be absolutely frank. I just want things to back the way they were. 

That's also why we're here, watching _Toki o Kakeru Shōjo_, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, one of our all-time favourites. It's warm and soft and nostalgic, and yet... I cannot wrap my mind around this. Do I _like_ Renjun? It doesn't feel like a simple crush, not that I wanna call it complicated, but I guess that's the only way to describe it. Of course it's complicated to have feelings for your best friend. But it's also nothing... special, perhaps? I feel myself to be unable to find the correct words to label my situation. He gets my heart racing, no doubt, but it's not like with Sicheng. Being with the older is... it's nervewracking, exciting, like a breath of life were to be blown into my system, waking me up entirely. Is that what love is supposed to feel like? I think I'm in love with Sicheng, I really do. But why do I feel like there is more to Renjun and me, like our story isn't over yet, perhaps hasn't even started? 

"What are you thinking about?" 

I answer too quickly, without giving it enough thought. "Us." He giggles at that, sitting up and stopping the movie. "Us?" Another one of those beautiful smiles and I realize that's what I was wishing for all these days I didn't see him. "Yeah," I breathe, rough in underuse, "you and me." Renjun averts his eyes for a moment, the pretty smile never leaving his lips. "Mh, I like the sound of that. Minhyung and Renjun." He curls himself back into my side and I breathe in the smell of his milk-scented conditioner. Yeah, I think, silently hoping he doesn't hear my heartbeat. Minhyung and Renjun.

I try my best to focus on the film, but I feel his fingers balling fists into my shirt and then suddenly, he's crying, and I don't know why, wanna ask if he's hurt, but it'd feel stupid, _obviously_ he's hurt, with all the times I acted like a total douche around him. I just hope this time it's not something I did wrong because I couldn't handle seeing him like this. So I whisper "I'm sorry" over and over again until the quiet sobs stop and he looks at my face again, eyes red and puffy from his salty tears. I see his eyes flicker to my lips, up again, full of dread and sadness, so much sadness. Out of instinct, I scoot closer, even though we're so close already, checking if I have his consent to press my lips on his. Our noses are touching by now, he's breathing into my mouth, hot and suffocatingly sweet.

"Do you wanna kiss me?" he whispers and without thinking, I nod. It's painful how much I want to kiss him, it's taking everything to not just clash our mouths together, but somehow, I make it. He presses his lips together, nodding, crying, clawing his fingernails into my chest. "_Okay_," he breathes and falls back into the pillows below us. "_Okay, that's okay..._"

I wonder if he's talking to me or to himself.

**scene:** just him, beaming

I'm ashamed to say I have no idea when he started tapdancing, but I'm just as happy to see him picking on hobbies he's wanted to do for such a long time. I remember seeing him dancing in front of the TV when we watched _Happy Feet_ for what felt like the billionth time, forcing me to call him Mumble and Mumble only — good times, really. He looks so excited and I can't help my shoulders raising, wrapping my arms around my body and just feeling the shiver of love rushing through my body. Yeah, I guess I love him. He's my best friend, I can't help it. My mom _awww_s next to me and I couldn't say it better. He's cute, everyone with two working eyes would see it. And yet. 

I don't recognize the song he's dancing to, but it's still just as amazing. He told me proudly that this was his first performance, inviting my mom and me over a cup of blueberry muffin tea. Sucking in my lower lip between my teeth, I glance at his adorable hat, how his fringe flaps up and down, his beautiful smile lighting up the room entirely.

"You were amazing," says my mom once the show is over and he's back together with us, hair slightly wet from, as always, not using his hairdryer correctly after showering, probably way too jumpy to focus on what he's doing. She wraps her arms around his tiny frame, pressing a kiss on the side of his head, having him squint his eyes together in surprise. I chuckle as I watch them talk a little, not wanting to interfere. Renjun's still tightly pushed against my mothers bosom when he holds out a hand for me to hold. "Thank you for being here," he mumbles and I don't know if he's talking to my mom still, but I send a reassuring smile back, holding his hand for a moment, feeling my mother's eyes on me. She raises her eyebrows in question but I shrug it off, letting Renjun pull me with him, over to a bar that's been put up. "I want you to meet someone," he sweetly smiles, interlocking our fingers and I swear, I die right on the spot. 

A pretty boy's chatting with a few other guys and girls, laughing into his glass of coke from time to time. He has a light voice, kind of nasal, but it's soothing. "Hyuck, this is my best friend Mark. Mark, this is Donghyuck."

Said Auburn haired turns around with a huge grin on his face, quickly reaching out to shake my hand. His grip is tight and his hands are a little clammy, but I don't mind. Since when were people our age saying hello by shaking hands? "Lee Donghyuck," he repeats and I grin, immediately taking a liking in the slightly strange but kind of cute guy. "Lee Mark," I also say, only to be funny and Donghyuck laughs, bringing his glass back up to his lips and grinning at me, slowly dragging his teeth along the rim of the glass. Oh. Okay then.

❦ 

"So you like Renjun," concludes Sicheng after putting on his pants again. I watch him curling himself into his blankets and getting out a vaporizer, hitting the thing a few times and filling his room with the smell of chocolate chip cookies. I never supported his addiction, of course not, but at least he doesn't smoke actual cigarettes anymore. Besides, it made his mouth taste yummy. I'm well aware that it's not a question, yet I shake my head, spinning a little on his desk chair, not having bothered to put on a shirt. It's warm, it always is with Sicheng. Except, he always seems to be freezing. "I don't like him, not like that."

Nodding, he takes another drag, a huge white cloud forming over his head. I wonder how much nicotine his body was supposed to take before his lungs gave up entirely. It wasn't like the Chinese boy didn't try, but sometimes I wonder if he tried enough. "Okay, so you _don't_ like him... What about him, does he like you?"

I'm pretty sure Renjun's in the same situation as me, confused about this sudden attraction we're obviously both feeling and scared to lose one another. At least that's what I got, from the late-night-tension and how his hands seem to always find my waist, cold fingers ghosting under my shirt, or my throat, scratching at my Adam's apple. Sometimes he'd stick his nose right into the crease of my neck and jaw, and inhale very deeply. Strangely, it's like we're (physically) closer than before. 

So, I say, "Yes." Renjun likes me. I think.

❦

My birthday is only a few days away and I regret proposing to go to Ki Yoora's ball pit. It's been closed for over two years now and Renjun's super beat-up about it. Rubbing his back, I try to console him while he stares at his phone, desperately waiting for a call from the owners of the old playhouse. "This is fucking stupid," he whines after a while and I nod, agreeing, always agreeing. Fucking stupid, yeah. It really is. 

It's been a couple nights since our almost-kiss, if I can even call it that, and I'm confused. Sure, he's still touchy and smells so nice and looks at me with those pretty eyes, but... He never mentioned that night again, but so didn't I, so I don't blame him. Just. I kinda miss him, even with him being right next to me. And I don't mean in the best friends kinda way. I want his body to melt right into mine. I don't even care if it's unhealthy and maybe that's where the problem lays.

"It's okay, really..." I try again, but he only sends me a glare. "I wanted this to be perfect, though. Everything I try to make things better just ends up making it worse." I know what he's talking about and yet I ask him what he means. Maybe hearing it from him would bring a little clearness to my brain as well, not just philosophizing about it with Sicheng, especially with still sex-tired brains and lazy tongues. (His ideas might be could but understanding them through a curtain of thick accent and no effort to pronounce words correctly, I often was left completely helpless, not smarter than before.)

Renjun sighs and I focus back on him, on his face, his eyes still averted to the screen of his phone. "It's just..." he begins but retreats and I fight a desperate whine because _talk, please, talk to me_. "It's okay," I reassure him again, but this time it's not about our cancelled plans. I want him to know that it's okay to let his emotions out. I won't be mad, who the hell could get mad at him? Not me. I'm never mad at him. He lets out a heavy breath and puts his phone on the couch next to him, turning a little more to me and all of a sudden looking me deep into my eyes. "I think I might have feelings for you. And I don't want that. As much as I hate to feel this way, I don't want to like you the way I do at the moment."

I nod, slowly, cautious to not display any of what I'm feeling at the moment. He could never make me mad, but he for sure can make me sad. I nod again and he smiles a little. Okay. It's okay. I'm not mad, I'm just so, _so_ heartbroken.

**scene:** not him, but a pretty summer breeze

Jeno gives me a look of dissatisfaction, arms crossed in front of his broad chest and lips pursed a little, obviously deep in thought. "You need to get laid," he speaks after a moment and I groan, already regretting even driving over to him — he mentioned an _emergency_, how was I supposed to know he was only trying to get me into someone's pants once again?! I stand up, already ready to leave, but be pushes me down with a firm shove. I hate that he's stronger than me, hate his stupid arm muscles and the veins on his arms. Stupid Jeno. "I mean it, Mark. I know you don't wanna tell me what's wrong, but what I also know is that you need something — or in your case, someone, to get your mind of what's hurting you." Stupid Jeno and his stupid (correct) thoughts. He's right, I won't tell him, but the other thing doesn't sound too bad. Except... Sicheng is out of town and I don't want him to feel like I'm using him, even though we both know that I am. 

This is how I end up with my legs tangled with those of a girl whose name I've forgotten and that's moaning into my ear as I kiss along her jaw, breathing into the crook of her neck, teeth brushing her collarbone with less force that I would've liked — I don't want to hurt her, but her skin tastes better than the bittersweetness on my tongue from imagining what Renjun's lips would feel like. She's hot around me, too hot, but I get off and so does she after a while. It's not right, but it's not wrong either. Once we're wearing a few clothes again, she ruffles my hair and kisses me, slowly running her tongue along my lips and licking into my mouth. So hot. I'm sweating, this isn't the normal afterheat that comes with sex, not the usual thrill (or slight embarrassment), I am literally on fire. "Mark..." she starts and I'm impressed she didn't forget my name over the many shots we had earlier, "I hope you don't see this as... I don't really want a relationship at the moment." She tries an apologetic smile and I start laughing without knowing why. She joins me after a few confused glances and I fall asleep with her face stuffed into my back, arms wrapped around my torso. _On fire_.

Haruhi. That was her name. 

❦

2012: It's a few days before my thirteenth birthday and I sit with my mother's arms wrapped around me, crying. Renjun wasn't eating, he looked so sick. Mom pats my hair and whispers softly into my ear. _It's okay, let it out_. I whimper. _My best friend is going to die if he doesn't let someone help him_, I want to say, _nothing is okay_.

❦

She doesn't order her frozen yoghurt with bananas and sprinkles, but with blackberries and Smarties and somehow, I'm thankful for that. We talk and laugh a lot and then it slips and I invite her to my birthday. I shouldn't feel bad, really, I'm allowed to have friends. Renjun would be happy, happy that I'm trying to get over him. Haruhi isn't like that, but he doesn't have to know. 

She tells me she's never loved someone, it makes me feel bad for her, but she claims not to be sad about it. 

**note:** this is kind of a mess, I'm sorry. All I can think about are his lips, curled up in a smile. I don't want our story to arrive at its page, not yet.

**scene:** told him that i loved him, was not sure if he heard; the roof was pretty windy and he didn't say a word

"God, I missed you _so_ much," laughs Sicheng, his words muffled by the way his face is smushed into my neck as he wraps his arms tighter around me, against the red door of my house. He's so _warm_. "'M never gonna leave again, I swear." Surprised, and realizing that that is probably the one thing I've always needed to hear, I pull him up into a kiss, chaste and soft, unable to hide my huge smile. He coos a little, digging his nose into my cheek and plastering it with those aggressively affectionate pecks I've grown to adore to so much.

I laugh, genuinely. "I missed you, too, you crazy person." And it's true. I missed him more than I'd ever admit.

"Let's—" He runs his half-opened mouth along my jaw, cutting himself off, "not sleep with other people anymore, 'kay?" The question comes unexpected and I would be lying if I said my heart didn't a whole flip but... _but_. Before I can stop myself, say that he and I aren't like that, aren't real, I feel myself nodding and next, he's humming against my lips and okay, this is okay.

It's not like I _need_ to sleep with other people — I do it to forget the only thing I'll seemingly never forget, so why bother in the first place? Sicheng knows — _I _know I'm in love with Renjun but I _like_ Sicheng, like him a lot. He knows that, too. "Is your mom home?" he asks and I roll my eyes, giving it a small nod. Half anticipating him to excuse himself to leave, I watch wide-eyed how the corners of his eyes crinkle in glee and he pushes past me, lower lip caught by his teeth.

I'm pretty sure my mother knows that Sicheng and I have... a thing going on? She'll probably give me the talk once he leaves and buy a lot of condoms like she did when she found out about my first time with an older girl. With a sour taste in my mouth, I remember that Renjun was the one that told her.

"Mrs Lee, hey," calls the Chinese boy's voice from the kitchen, ripping me out of my previous string of thoughts, making me shut the door with an amused shake to my head.

Watching Sicheng and my mother wash and cut potatoes makes me realize two things: First, what I have with Sicheng isn't made for forever, yet I could never get tired of seeing him frown in concentration. Second, the glances my mom throws me makes it certain that she knows it's nothing more than a fever dream.

❦

Even though I'd never tell him, watching Renjun eat is the most fulfilling thing in the world. His hands and cheeks ate slicked with red honey-chilli paste sauce and I'm pretty sure I see a sesame hanging in his eyebrow and I laugh because it's so freeing to see him like that. Maybe it's not just the eating. Maybe it's that he looks younger, making me feel younger also. We weren't strangers when we were younger.

"Tomorrow's your birthday," he mumbles and washes some of the chicken down with guava juice. I'm sure there are people watching us, I mean, we _are_ in the middle of a, even if not that fancy, restaurant. Instead of commenting on it, I just nod, dipping bits of my pizza crust in the lake sauce on his plate, earning a slight tug in his lip — _actually_, I'm not sure. There's too much red to actually see anything. "Well, what about..." He shakes his head, but I give him a reassuring smile. "I might know someone that'd let you use his place for a party. A huge party, everyone you know — and _I_ know, in case that's not enough. He'd invite his friends, too, they're, um, older? I don't know, maybe it a stupid idea, but you turn 19 only once."

Even though I'm pretty sure they say the same thing about turning 18, but I don't say that only watch him turning back to his chicken, avoiding my glance. I know what he's doing. He's trying to get me to forget about my question, about spending my birthday alone with him. I hate that he worries about that, but can I blame him? It's probably the right thing to do.

So, "Sure, why not?" Yeah. Why the fuck not. It's not like I've got anything to lose anyway. He beams at me, hastily grabbing a tissue and finally cleaning off his hands and mouth. "Then it's settled! I'm gonna text you Xuxi's number and then you can arrange whatever you want your party to look like. Awesome..."

I can't deny it's kind of weird to hang out with him, but small moments like this make it worthwhile.

**notes: **run away, my lover, don't let your shadows get you -S

**scene:** knock, knock

The soundwave of a Billie Eilish remix and teens rubbing their groins together hits me once I set a foot in Wong Yukhei's — _Xuxi's_ — villa-like house, making my eardrums tingle painfully, the smell of people, smoke and, weirdly enough, rice engulfing me a few steps in. It's full, really full — full with people I don't know, mostly, but I can see Jaemin, so I guess I won't be all alone. 

I bite my lip as I look around. I'd hoped Sicheng would come with me, for moral support and all that, but he'd just smiled and run a hand through my hair. I can still taste him on my mouth and I miss him, but I'm also happy he declined the offer; he wouldn't fit in, he's never been the one for parties, he can rather relax when it's quiet and less sweaty around him. 

"Birthday boy, hey," greets me a familiar voice, way too close to my ear, and I can basically taste the alcohol on Jeno's breath. He grins at me, holding up a smushed present, its corners a little dented, but other than that, not that bad. I smile back, genuinely grateful. "Thank you, man," I retort and take it from him. He says something inspirational, but it's way too loud to understand anything, and then he's off. My smile stays in place for a while. Jeno is a good friend, he just makes a lot of wrong decisions.

With some trouble, I find what seems to be the kitchen, a handful of people from my school wishing me a happy birthday on the way, people I'd totally forgot about. 

For a moment, I consider just leaving. I'm not sure anyone would really mind, nor notice. I wanna see Renjun, though, wanna see what excuse he has to not spend the night with me. I wouldn't be surprised — I'm not mad, I'm just in love.

That's what I see him; someone hands me a cup of -- something and I lean against the kitchen door frame. The music switches to something from HAIM and a smile dances over the edge of my mouth when I spot him looking through the crowd — this is our song, every single song is ours. At least tonight, at least _now_.

"Injun!" I call and cringe over the nervous squeak in my voice. Part of me doesn't want to believe he heard me, wants to think that this is telepathy, that he just senses my presence, my _want_. I want him. And he wants me.

His gaze is filled with something I cannot quite decipher, but his eyes glisten with tears as he shoves past bodies, not breaking his stare once. I don't remember having stopped breathing, but my lungs are burning and my heart's pounding in my chest. 

Then he's standing in front of me.

"_Hi_," he speaks, breathless. 

I smile. "Hey."

And then something's different. We've changed so much these past months, but it's never been just a rapid transformation; it's a slow process, becoming a different sort of person, that's something I'd been so sure of. But now. Now is different. This is our soundtrack; the breathing and laughing and singing and his smile, his beautiful, beautiful smile — this is our sequel.

"_Knock, knock_," he says and I know it's the last time, the last page of book one. My breath is shaky and my hand tightens around the cup in my hands. Still, I have to do this, I have to make it through this stupid angsty teen novel that is our life,

"_Who's there?_"

And he just. Kisses me. He jumps up and grabs the hem of my shirt, pulling me down, crashing our lips together. I drop the cup, pull him closer. His lips are warm and smooth, opening up to let my tongue slide in, caress his bottom lip, flick over his own. His fingers ride up into my hair, one arm hooking around my neck, pulling himself up and me further down, bringing our chests closer together. I grab him by the waist, almost lifting him off the ground.

He breathes heavily into my mouth, letting me explore his neck, kissing and licking and feeling, but quickly pulling me up again, connecting our lips like it's his source of life. (It is. And he is mine.)

Welcome to the consequence. (The dog days are over.)


	2. interlude: haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We both knew we weren't real, but I wasn't the only one that sometimes forgot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry

**scene:** sicheng

'Dong Sicheng' reads the bell nameplate of my boyfriend's apartment and I let out a shaky breath before pressing down on it. It's my thirty-second hour as a nineteen-year-old. I have cheated on Sicheng. I've been always cheating on him, but now it's real, the last step has been done. 

"Mark," he grins once the door opens, a little ruffled, but shining. I let him hug me, press me tight, breathe in my cologne. He smells good, like home. My mom always told me that when I'm old enough, I'll want to leave and make another place my home. I wish I'd known home could be a person.

His lips find mine and he smiles into the kiss, pulling me into the hallway. One of his hands cup my jaw while the other's fingers thread through my hair, always so gentle, and I run my hands along the small of his back, fingernails scratching softly through his shirt. "Do you-" he starts and I nod, feeling his fingers slide under my shirt, over my stomach and waist, my chest and I shut my eyes, _this is wrong this is wrong what are you doing this is wrong_ —

"Are you okay? You look like you wanna die," he giggles but I can't laugh, I can't laugh at him when I know what I've done. Seeing my pained expression, his smile fades and his hands disappear from under my shirt, finding my face instead, caressing my cheeks and pushing my bangs to the side a bit. "Babe, oh my god, did I hurt you? I'm so sorry, don't cry, please don't cry--"

I shake my head, still pressing my eyes together, trying to take a step backward, but he has me in his grip, fisting into the front of my jacket. "Talk to me, Mark, what happened," he continues, so urgent and afraid as if _he's_ the one having fucked it all up — I swallow dryly, opening my eyes and forcing myself to look him in the eyes.

"I- I love you."

His hands drop and a small smile appears on his lips, speckled blush plastering his cheeks in soft pink. "That's- wow-"

"I love you and that's why I want you to be happy," I stumble on, choking on my own tongue and reach for his hands, but his expression turns into something else and now he's the one taking a step away from me, frowning, questioning.

Helplessly, I watch his mouth drop open and close, lips shaking around the untold truth behind my words, bleary eyes searching for something else in my own ones, something I cannot give him. "_I love you_," I whisper, again and again, but I know I've lost him.

We both knew we weren't real, but I wasn't the only one that sometimes forgot. 

Instead of anger, instead of anything that'd hurt me physically, he sniffs, tears rolling down his beautiful face. "You're my only happiness," he speaks and I bite my lip to stop the sob from coming out, "but I love you, too, so I'd never ask you to stay."

Silently crying, we look at one another, until he mumbles a _fuck it_, grabbing me close and pressing a tear-stained kiss against my forehead.


End file.
